Pick Your Poison
by UberNerd121
Summary: In which Two's criteria for a good place to stay are "anywhere people don't actively try to kill me and I can use the computer" and Nos-4-a2 suffers.


"...Where do you want me to take you?"

Two started, turning to look at the source of the question. She hadn't even heard the door to her cell open, but there was Nos-4-a2, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look at her. It was the first time he'd spoken to her in days ‒ the first time she'd _seen_ him in days. He didn't look well, somehow duller, not as neat. His shoulders looked _round_ ‒ did he usually wear shoulder pads? ‒ and he was slouched forward in an unnatural way, like his body wasn't built to convey anything but a proud posture. His optics hardly gave off any light, and creases ran deep around them.

"You're... taking me somewhere?" Two stammered, too surprised to say anything else. She wanted to ask where he'd been, what he'd been doing, but something about him kept her from speaking up.

"I'm letting you go," he said it so casually that she didn't understand. When she didn't respond, he continued, "You'll not be my captive any longer. I'll drop you off wherever you'd like."

The strangest combination of emotions Two had ever known swept through her processors. She was free? She could go home? But... she didn't want to go to Earth, not without Four or Three or Five. She was supposed to be looking for Four... wasn't she?

Somehow, amongst all the thoughts ringing in her mind, the one that left her speakers was, "What about you?"

He looked at her visor, but it was strange. He looked like he had never seen her before. "...What about me?"

Two blinked. "I-I... I don't know, I just... you'll be alone?"

He kept staring at her, his voice level. "So what?"

"You don't seem... right."

His brow drew lower, the first trace of an expression he'd shown so far. "I'm not. It's apparent now that I never have been."

"Wait, are you telling me that after one little realization, you're turning your life around just like that?"

An indignant frown made him look more like himself. "After realizing that _the whole of my programmed purpose is a lie_ , spending who knows how long without power or rest in an existential hell, I have decided to drop you off somewhere safe."

"Then what?"

"Then... nothing! What do you want? I'm giving you your life back and you're asking stupid questions ‒ "

"Do you think letting me go will make up for everything you've done?"

He flared up, the tones of his voice becoming discordant. "Don't speak to me like I don't know what I've done! I have no delusion of making up for anything ‒ I'm just making one good decision before I end my mistake of an existence altogether!"

He seemed to falter after he said it. He hadn't meant to let that slip, and his optics darted away from Two's once more.

"...You're not really thinking about...?"

"Don't pretend it's not the best course of action here. As utterly, deeply confused as I am, one thing is certain: no good can come from my staying operational. I am a tool. I defied my creator long before I met you. I have no purpose. Insulting him is the last thing I can hope to achieve, and what would be better than destroying the failed weapon he worked so hard to ‒ "

"SHUT UP!"

He did more out of shock than anything.

"I can't _imagine_ what you're going through right now, and honestly, part of me thinks you deserve it ‒ but you can't just kill yourself!"

"That's not your decision to make!"

"No, you _let_ me talk! Before you captured me, my home was destroyed. I lost almost every single person I'd ever cared about, and after that damn war ended, I ran away! _Then_ you know what happened? I spent two years going absolutely _nowhere_ before I was kidnapped by a maniac who _wanted to kill me!_ How many times do you think I wanted to end it all, because _I've lost count!_ "

All Nos could do was stare.

"If you really want to insult your creator, I can't imagine anything more effective than living on and doing good. Besides, you're not the only one who has it bad. When I consider all my options, I literally don't have anywhere better to be than stuck on my kidnapper's ship, just because he lets me search the galactic information database."

"...You want to stay?"

"No, but what other options do I have? You've obviously decided not to kill me, and if you're as well respected as you always brag about, I don't think anybody else will as long as I'm here."

"That's the worst reasoning I've ever heard."

"Worse than killing yourself just to spite some asshole you haven't seen in years? Listen, get something to eat ‒ something that's _not_ sentient; you're collapsing under the weight of your conscience as it is ‒ and spend some time offline. It won't solve all your problems, but you'll be able to think more clearly when you wake up."

"...When I came in here to tell you that I wanted to set you free, the last thing I expected was a lecture."

"You should have thought about that before you said something so stupid."

His expression softened. "...Can't argue with that."


End file.
